Stolen Moments: Beyond the Veil
by neoepiphany
Summary: Sirius Black remembers some of the pivotal moments in his life as he tries to come to terms with his own death. My angsty little attempt at closure. New and Improved!


Stolen Moments: Beyond the Veil  
  
A story of Sirius Black By neoepiphany  
  
Sirius's body hit the ground hard. For a moment he couldn't move. He coughed, trying to regain his breath. His skin was tingling; an effect of the spell, he thought. His chest felt as though it had been ripped open where the jet of light hit it. But he knew there was no time to recover. He rolled over onto all fours, and stood up, holding his wand in front of him. He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear them; he could see nothing.  
  
"Nice try, Bellatrix," he shouted, laughing, "but it'll take more than that!"  
  
He expected her to jeer back at him, or to cast another spell, or even to laugh derisively. But there was no sound; not even an echo. He rubbed at his eyes again; why couldn't he see? A sudden wave of panic rose up—had the spell blinded him?  
  
But no—he could see the motion of his hand when he waved it in front of his face. He wasn't blind; it was just suddenly dark in the room. He wondered what had happened to the flickering torches.  
  
A shiver snaked over his skin. He knew this darkness.  
  
He knew this darkness.  
  
He could hear the waves beating against the rocks outside, and the constant dripping as the cold salt water seeped into the building. It was a familiar sound now—how many years now had he listened to it? How many hours had he counted and cursed the waves?  
  
Somewhere, someone was dying. Sirius had learned how to tell by the way the dementors vanished for hours. They liked to gather around the dying man's cell. He hated to think of someone dying as a blessing, but it was only these rare times when the dementors left that his mind could clear. When they were gone like this, he didn't have to devote every ounce of energy he had to hanging desperately to his own sanity. He could sleep, and it wasn't charged quite so much with nightmares. His mind wasn't full of images... Images of James... Images of Peter...  
  
He was going to die here, he knew that. The day James and Lily had gone into hiding, he had known that his own days were numbered. That had been the beauty of his plan. Obviously, everyone would assume him to be the secret keeper. Voldemort would go after him. No matter how much he was tortured, though, he wouldn't give up the answer; he knew eventually he'd probably either die or go mad, but James and Lily would be safe. His best friend—no, his brother—would have lived on. And for Sirius, that was enough. He would rather be dead in a world with James than alive in a world without him.  
  
It would have worked. If only he hadn't made his one, terrible mistake.  
  
In retrospect, he couldn't understand why he hadn't seen it right away. But Peter was so small and harmless—so insignificant. It was unimaginable. And Remus, well, he had so much more to gain from Voldemort. In Voldemort's world, a werewolf would be respected, not ridiculed. The wizarding world tortured Remus for who he was; Voldemort could have punished them all. And, in his own way, Remus had always been a bit aloof, a bit more on the outside of the group than the others. Sirius imagined he'd always been a bit jealous of James and himself. Once Dumbledore had suggested that there was a spy in their midst, his mind had flown to Remus.  
  
He regretted that now. He'd been so horribly wrong.  
  
And he'd paid for his mistake. James and Lily had paid for his mistake.  
  
He was going to die in this prison on this godforsaken rock. The entire world believed he was a traitor, a dark wizard. The entire world believed he had betrayed and killed his best friend.  
  
Well, he told himself, I did kill him. Just not how they think.  
  
He wished he could talk to Remus, if only for a moment. He wished he could send a message. Try to explain, somehow. And Harry. How old would Harry be now? He counted the scratches on the stone under the window. So... Harry was nearly thirteen now!  
  
Sirius slumped down against the mossy rock. He wished he could talk to Harry, to warn him, to explain things to him. "But why would he believe me?" he whispered to himself. "It's not as if I have any proof. If I could take him Peter—but what are the odds of finding one little rat in the whole world?"  
  
He stared, unseeing, into the blackness. It was always dark in Azkaban; dark in the hallways and dark in the mind. A darkness beyond the absence of light.  
  
A sudden chill and feeling of dismay announced the return of the dementors. He sighed and looked away. He considered scooting to the back of his cell, to avoid the dementors.  
  
But in the darkness came another sound. Distinct from the water. Footsteps. The dementors were escorting someone. Ah. Perhaps Fudge, on his annual inspection? He scooted to the front of the cell instead. Perhaps there would be something to learn here...  
  
Sirius stumbled. God, the memory had been so vivid. It was like he had been there again. His hands trembled from the feeling of the dementors' presence.  
  
It was the darkness that had brought back the memory. He was still haunted by nightmares from Azkaban; this was nothing new. "Lumos," he murmured, raising his wand.  
  
It did not light. He sighed, and crossed his arms. "It was so real," he murmured to himself, shivering a little.  
  
"Of course." It was a woman's voice.  
  
Sirius jumped, and held out his wand. "Who's there?" he shouted, spinning around. "Where are we?"  
  
"A place between worlds," the voice said. "A place of memories."  
  
"Show yourself," Sirius growled, staring into the blackness.  
  
"You can't see me yet," the voice said. "You aren't ready to accept things. Until you are, I can't show myself."  
  
"Accept things? What things?" Sirius growled, still waving his wand.  
  
"That you fell through the veil. That you have died."  
  
Sirius froze. Then, he laughed his bark like laugh. "Nice try. I'm not dead—look at me! I'm solid. I'm no ghost."  
  
"Then see for yourself, Sirius. Turn around."  
  
He frowned, scornfully. There was nothing there. He had just been facing that way; he knew there was nothing—  
  
Wwhere there had been darkness a moment before, there was now an arch. Well, not the structure of an arch, but a portal. It was as if a doorway had opened in the empty space, spilling out the dim light of the death chamber, blindingly bright in this vacuum. He could see them all—everyone who had been fighting just moments before. Just in front of the arch was Bellatrix, her face just lighting with glee. But she was immobile, frozen like a statue. In fact, the room was a still as a sculpture.  
  
"Why aren't they moving?" he asked the voice.  
  
"Time won't move," she explained, "because you won't let it. You're afraid they'll leave you behind."  
  
"I'm not afraid of anything," Sirius snapped. And suddenly, the room began to move, albeit very, very slowly, like a film advanced one frame at a time. Bellatrix slowly leaned forward, her mouth opening in a gleeful scream. As her head ducked, Sirius could see the figure on the stairs behind her. He was moving as slowly as she; clearly, he had just jumped down the stairs, as he was slowly floating downward. His face was pale; his expression one of rising panic.  
  
"Harry—" Sirius whispered, his mouth dry. "I can't leave Harry."  
  
The autumn air chilled his already wind-blown skin, but he couldn't possibly feel colder. His dry eyes burned in the breeze.  
  
This couldn't be. This wasn't possible.  
  
He swung his leg over the motorcycle and stood, unable to move in the face of the wreckage. He stared up at the one remaining wall of the house at Godric's Hollow. It rose above the heaps of charred wood and destroyed possessions like a monolith, splintered and broken. The nursery crib still stood on what remained of the second story floor; it was empty. Clouds of dust settled to the earth in the grey morning light.  
  
What had he done?  
  
Sirius opened his mouth. "James? Lily?" he tried to shout, but the words emerged as a hoarse croak, no volume behind them. He gulped and tried again. "James? Lily?"  
  
"Sirius?" said a voice behind him. A spark of hope kindled in his heart—  
  
And then died. It was Hagrid, his hairy face red and dirty.  
  
"Where are James and Lily?" Sirius demanded. "Where's James?"  
  
Hagrid looked down. "I'm sorry, Sirius," he said. "They're over there." He pointed a little way away. Sirius followed the path of his hand...  
  
Hagrid had clearly pulled them out of the wreckage. They were dirty from the explosion, but unmarked. Lily's eyes were squeezed shut, but James's were open and staring. They were clearly dead.  
  
The landscape seemed to fade to gray and disappear. Sirius fell to his knees, his white knuckles clutched to his mouth. This couldn't be real.  
  
What had he done?  
  
"They're dead," he whispered. "They're all dead."  
  
Hagrid's huge, heavy hand fell onto his shoulder. "Not all," he said gently. He moved aside his coat. Tucked in the crook of his arm, the coat protecting him from the wind, was Harry. He was whimpering slightly, and his face was filthy. Dry, sticky blood coated his forehead all around a red, lightning-shaped cut.  
  
"Harry," Sirius whispered, reaching out to touch the baby's face. "Harry—you lived..."  
  
Harry opened his big green eyes for a moment and began to cry. Sirius swallowed hard.  
  
He looked up at Hagrid. "And Voldemort?" he asked, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper.  
  
"He's gone, Sirius. Somethin' about this little guy did him in," Hagrid smiled sadly. "It's over."  
  
Sirius fell back, sitting on the dirty grass. He was glad—of course he was glad that Voldemort was dead. It's what they'd been fighting for for such a long time. But the price—the price was too high. Fat tears ran down his cheeks, ignored.  
  
"It's over," he repeated.  
  
But what had he done?  
  
It was his fault. They were dead, and it was his fault. The price was too high.  
  
He put his head in his hands and sat for a long time. Hagrid was talking to him, but Sirius didn't hear the words. His mind was somewhere hovering between numbness and agony, wishing desperately to wake up.  
  
The sun had risen high into the sky, when Hagrid stood up, patting Sirius's shoulder.  
  
"I got ter go now," he said, wiping his face on the back of his sleeve. "I promised Dumbledore I'd bring Harry to him. He's goin' to live with the muggles."  
  
"What?" Sirius said, jerked from his numbness. He wiped his face on his dirty sleeve. "No—I'm his godfather. He belongs with me."  
  
Hagrid shook his head. "I'm sorry Sirius—I got orders from Dumbledore."  
  
"Hagrid," Sirius growled, "I'm his godfather. You understand what that means, don't you? I believe my duties begin now." He reached toward the little bundle that was the fidgeting and whimpering baby. "Give me my godson!"  
  
Hagrid shifted Harry to his other arm. "I'm sorry—Dumbledore was real specific about this. I'm ter hand him off ter Dumbledore and only Dumbledore."  
  
"Hagrid—" Sirius began, his voice an angry snarl, but he froze. He understood.  
  
Of course Dumbledore didn't want him to take Harry. He didn't know about Wormtail. He thought that Sirius had betrayed James and Lily to Voldemort personally; that Sirius was the dark wizard in their midst.  
  
Oh no. Dumbledore believed he had killed James and Lilly. Soon, everyone would believe him to be a murderer.  
  
He swallowed. "Of course. You should take him to Dumbledore. In fact take my bike." His eyes drifted to the little shelter where James and Lily's bodies lay. "I won't need it anymore."  
  
Hagrid frowned. "You're not going ter—I mean, don't do anythin'—Sirius, there's nothin' you can do fer them! Don't do anythin' foolish!"  
  
I can get revenge, Sirius thought. That's what I can do for them.  
  
"I know," he said in a hollow voice. "I just want you to get Harry to Dumbledore right away, that's all. Keep him safe."  
  
Hagrid smiled grimly. "Thank you Sirius," he said. They stood and walked the few feet to the bike.  
  
"Can I just say goodbye?" Sirius asked, reaching toward the baby. Hagrid paused, but handed over the little boy, frowning. He watched Sirius carefully.  
  
Sirius lifted the bike's seat and pulled out a clean rag he kept in the storage there. He used it to clean up Harry's face. He patted his head, and then hugged the little boy to his chest.  
  
"Don't worry, Harry," he whispered. "I'm your godfather—I'll always look out for you. You can trust me."  
  
He stood there for a while, holding his godson to his chest. Finally, Hagrid gave a polite cough.  
  
"Alright," Sirius sighed. "Take him. Take him to Dumbledore—just keep him safe, Hagrid!" He handed over the baby who had begun to cry again, reaching his hands out to Sirius.  
  
Hagrid had tied a scarf around his neck like a sling. He tucked Harry into it, tightened it to make sure it was secure, and he mounted the bike. The motorcycle was huge—it had to be for Sirius to charm it to fly the way it did—but Hagrid dwarfed it. He raised his hand in farewell, and revved the motor. In a moment, they were in the air.  
  
Sirius did not so much as blink until the motorcycle was nothing more than a distant speck in the grey sky. Finally he turned away. He had to go say his goodbyes to Lily and James  
  
And then he had to correct his mistake.  
  
Sirius fell to his knees again. He was trembling; he hadn't wanted to relive that. He hadn't wanted to think about that day for fourteen years. He looked through the arch—it had frozen again. Harry was on the bottom step, his arms reaching toward the archway.  
  
"Why are you doing this to me?" he asked the voice. "Do you like torturing me?"  
  
"You're doing it to yourself, Sirius. You're reliving your memories because you're clinging to them. Accept that you're dead, and move on. It will stop."  
  
"I'm not dead!" he cried to the voice rising to his feet. "If I had died, I would remember! This is some kind of trick—"  
  
"You fell through the veil," the voice repeated.  
  
Sirius scowled. An idea popped into his head.  
  
"If I'm dead, then I want to see James," he said.  
  
"You aren't—" the voice began.  
  
"Don't you dare tell me I'm not ready to see James!" growled Sirius. "I've been waiting fifteen years to see him. I'm ready. I've never been more ready."  
  
"Until you admit that you've died, you can't see him," the voice said patiently.  
  
"Why?" Sirius demanded.  
  
"Even if you saw him, you wouldn't recognize him. Not until you admit that you're both dead."  
  
"I am not dead!" Sirius bellowed into the blackness.  
  
For a few moments there was silence. Sirius was just beginning to wonder if the voice had abandoned him, when there was a loud sigh.  
  
"You know, Sirius—this is just what I love about you. Your ability to grasp new situations quickly."  
  
His eyes widened.  
  
Sirius flopped onto the sofa beside James, still idly tossing the golden bauble between his hands. He kicked his heavy boots up onto the coffee table.  
  
"One more time!" James shouted before bursting into another chorus of "God rest ye merry gentlemen."  
  
Sirius grimaced at him. "Prongs, Prongs," he said. "It was bad enough the first four times—"  
  
"You tell him Sirius!" Lily shouted from behind the Christmas tree. "He's been singing it all week."  
  
James tossed a throw pillow at the tree, sending down a rain of tinsel and causing a fit of giggles from Lily.  
  
"When will Remus and Peter get here?" Sirius asked impatiently. "I'd like to get this Christmas party going sometime before New Year's."  
  
"They're only a few minutes late, Padfoot. What is it they say about patience?" James asked.  
  
"It killed the cat?" Sirius suggested.  
  
"Who's thirsty?" Lily asked, heading into the kitchen. She had a sprig of holly in her long red hair; it looked very festive. "I'm dying for some tea. Fancy a cup?"  
  
"No, thanks, but I would go for a cup of your famous egg nogg," Sirius grinned.  
  
"Oh, sorry," Lily said, poking her head back out of the kitchen. "No egg nogg this year."  
  
"What? But Lily—it's not Christmas without your Egg nogg! I wait all year for your egg nogg!" He rose and pointed at her. "Madame, get thee into the kitchen and make me an eggy beverage!"  
  
Lily stuck her tongue out at him. "How about some peppermint tea? That's festive." She vanished behind the door.  
  
Sirius looked at James. "Can't you talk some sense into her?"  
  
"Sorry, Padfoot," said James, grinning mischievously. "I'm the one who wouldn't let her make it in the first place."  
  
"What? Why?" Sirius frowned.  
  
James shrugged. "Well you know how it has so much rum in it?"  
  
"Of course. That's partly why it's so famous." Sirius winked. "You know how Moony gets after a few glasses of Lily's famous egg nogg..."  
  
"Right. And you know she makes it by taste?"  
  
"Yes..." Sirius said. "Any chance of getting to the point soon?"  
  
"I didn't want Lily tasting the rum," James said, slowly and conspiritorially. He waggled an eyebrow.  
  
Sirius frowned. "Why not? It's Christmas!"  
  
"Come on, Sirius, put one and two together," said Lily, returning with a mug of tea. "Why wouldn't James want me tasting rum?"  
  
"You've... become a Quaker?" Sirius suggested. Lily shook her head. "He was afraid you'd turn into a pirate? He's decided to be a horribly overbearing husband and spoil the Christmas party for the rest of us?"  
  
Lily rolled her eyes. "You know, Sirius, this is what I love about you: your ability to grasp new situations quickly."  
  
"Wait," Sirius frowned, realization dawning. "You don't mean—"  
  
But they were interrupted by Peter, crashing out of the fireplace. He stood, a stocking caught in his hair. "Sorry we're late. Entirely Remus's fault," he said, pulling away the stocking and tossing it at an empty armchair.  
  
Remus emerged a moment later. "Did we keep you waiting? It was Peter's fault, of course. What did we miss?"  
  
"We were just telling Sirius the good news," Lily smiled.  
  
"What good news?" Peter asked.  
  
"We're not having egg nogg!" James shouted, smiling broadly.  
  
Peter and Remus exchanged a look. "Oookay," Remus said, "but we like Lily's egg nogg. It's not Christmas without—"  
  
Sirius raised a hand. "I tried it. It didn't work," he said.  
  
Remus raised an eyebrow. "Why aren't we having egg nogg, Lily?"  
  
"I can't make it," she said, "because it has rum in it."  
  
"Since when is that a problem?" Peter asked.  
  
"Oh, for about the last two months," Lily said, grinning.  
  
Peter furrowed his brow in concentration, but Sirius and Remus both stared at Lily.  
  
"Do you mean it, Lily?" Remus said. She nodded.  
  
Sirius grinned widely, and punched James as hard as he could in the arm. "James! You old dog you!"  
  
"You're the dog, not me," James said innocently, rubbing his arm.  
  
"It was the Halloween party wasn't it?" Sirius winked. Lily tossed Wormtail's stocking at him; it caught him in the face. Sirius winked at her.  
  
Peter frowned, looking back and forth between the beaming Lily and the three smiling men. "What? What? What's going on?"  
  
"Don't be so thick, Wormtail!" Sirius said, exasperated. "We're having a baby!"  
  
Peter's face lit up. "We are?" he shouted.  
  
"In July!" Lily said, smiling broadly.  
  
"You still could have made the egg nogg," Remus teased.  
  
"But then we never would have had this humorous and memorable conversation," James teased back.  
  
"You're going to be a mother, Lily," Remus said happily.  
  
"I'm going to be a mother!" she cheered.  
  
"You're going to be a father?" Peter said to James, apparently still overwhelmed at the thought.  
  
"I'm going to be a father!" James shouted.  
  
"And I'm going to be... the friend of a guy who's a father!" Sirius shouted.  
  
"Don't be silly, Sirius," Lily said.  
  
"You're going to be the godfather," James agreed.  
  
"I'm going to be the godfather!" Sirius shouted. Remus punched him playfully on the arm.  
  
But the memory faded away into darkness, and he was back in front of the arch.  
  
"Lily?" he said to the voice.  
  
"Ah, now you recognize me!" she said. It was true; now he could tell it was Lily's voice. How could he have missed it before?  
  
"Where are you, Lily?" he whispered.  
  
"Right beside you," she whispered back. He turned his head swiftly.  
  
There she was; she looked as young and beautiful as she had on her wedding day. Sirius's heart swelled at the sight of her. "Lily," he whispered. He reached out and caught her in a huge hug. "Is it really you?"  
  
"It's really me," she answered.  
  
It was Lily; she felt like Lily, she smelled like Lily, and she sounded like Lily.  
  
"But where's James?" Sirius asked, releasing her from the hug. Lily rolled her eyes.  
  
"Sure, being reunited with one old friend isn't enough—you've got to have two," she said, grinning.  
  
"Sorry," he grinned back. "Can we see him?"  
  
"Absolutely," said Lily, "as soon as you admit that you've died."  
  
Sirius froze. "I don't know how this is possible. But I would remember dying, wouldn't I? I would know that it had happened. I would feel... different, wouldn't I?"  
  
"I can't say," said Lily. "It's different for everyone."  
  
"I don't know what happened, Lily, but I don't think I'm—" He stopped mid- sentence. Something had caught his eye.  
  
The scene through the arch was moving much more quickly now. Bellatrix had been pushed aside by Kingsley, who shot a jet of light at her. Harry had bounded toward the dais. Remus had caught him around the chest, and was holding him back. Harry was fighting with all his strength to get to the arch, but Remus held him tight.  
  
Sirius's eyes were caught on Remus. He had such a look of grief; he looked so much older than he was.  
  
"I'm not letting Snivellus tell me what to do, Remus!" Sirius bellowed, pulling on his cloak and jumping toward the fire.  
  
"You can't go barging into the Ministry of Magic! If you go, you won't be coming back, and you know it! You're a wanted man, Sirius," Remus shouted back. "Never mind that you're innocent—you'll be back in Azkaban this time tomorrow."  
  
"Stop," Sirius said. "Look—Harry's my godson. I'm not going to sit around here when I could be doing something to help him! Voldemort lured him there to help me, Remus. That gives me some responsibilities!"  
  
"You think he'll be happy if you're caught by the Ministry?" Remus asked. He pulled the pot of floo powder off the mantle.  
  
"None of this would even be necessary," Sirius grumbled in frustration, "if Dumbledore had just listened to me in the first place! If Harry had been forewarned—he wouldn't have let himself get fooled."  
  
"There's nothing we can do about that now—"  
  
"There is! We can go save his life!" Sirius said.  
  
Remus sighed, tossing the handful of floo powder into the flames. "Fine. Let's go," he said.  
  
Sirius stepped toward the fireplace, but Remus stopped him with a hand on his chest.  
  
"Watch yourself, Padfoot. I lost you to Azkaban once before. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you there again," he said.  
  
"Don't worry, Moony," Sirius said. "I'm not going anywhere. Now let's go save my godson."  
  
Remus. Moony.  
  
Sirius stared at Remus. "What'll happen to him Lily?" he asked.  
  
"He'll be okay, in time," said Lily, taking Sirius's arm. "He's a lot stronger than he looks. He's survived worse than this—he'll keep surviving."  
  
"I promised him I wouldn't go anywhere," Sirius murmured.  
  
In the death chamber, Harry had stopped fighting. He was staring at the veil with a look of shock and grief. Time seemed to be moving normally now. Harry and Remus stared at the veil. They were saying something, but Sirius couldn't make it out from so far away. They both looked so haunted.  
  
Remus helped Harry away, and did something to stop Neville's legs from twitching. He was shaking, Sirius could see that. Harry looked frozen.  
  
"Lily," Sirius murmured. "I can't be dead yet. I promised Harry I'd always look after him..."  
  
"Of course you will. You've passed on—you haven't disappeared. We will watch over him; we've always watched over him."  
  
Bellatrix ran up the stairs. Harry took off after her, running faster than Sirius had ever seen him manage. A few others chased after them.  
  
"Will he be okay?" he asked.  
  
"Of course he will," Lily said. "He's my son! He's a tough kid."  
  
Sirius smiled, although he felt like his heart was breaking. He turned to Lily.  
  
"I'm ready to see James, now," he said.  
  
She only smiled. "I'm sure he's ready to see you, too," she replied.  
  
"We can only hope that you're a Slytherin, like your mother and I," Sirius's father said pompously. Sirius just stared at the red train. It seemed like a dream—was he really going away to Hogwarts at last?  
  
"I want you to learn well," his mother said stiffly. "And no sniveling—nobody likes those boys who cry on their first night in the dormitory."  
  
Somehow, Sirius doubted he'd be crying.  
  
"I have to get on the train now!" he said, exasperated. "Look, all the older kids are already on—the cars will be all full."  
  
His mother gave him a quick, cold peck on the forehead. "Very well. Be a good, strong boy," she said.  
  
"We'll see you at the holidays," his father said, patting his shoulder. "Send along an owl if you need anything."  
  
"Right," Sirius said. "Bye!" He ran for the train, pulling his rattling trunk behind him.  
  
He darted up the stairs, and crashed into a boy passing the doorway. Their trunks both flew open, littering the corridor with cauldrons, new spell books, and spare robes.  
  
"Sorry about that," said Sirius, helping the boy to his feet. He was a skinny kid with glasses and untidy black hair. "Didn't see you."  
  
"It's okay," said the other boy, grinning.  
  
"Could you get a move on?" snapped a sixth year girl behind them. "You're holding up the whole train." She flicked her wand, and the trunks repacked themselves and slammed shut.  
  
"Hey, thanks," Sirius grinned. He lifted his trunk. "Are you a first year, too?" he asked the other boy. They walked down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment. They all seemed to be full.  
  
"Yep," he said. "My name's James Potter. You?"  
  
"Sirius Black," he replied. They stumbled unsteadily as the train lurched into motion. "What house do you want to be in?"  
  
"Gryffindor, of course!" James said. "Everyone knows it's the best."  
  
"Yeah, me too. But my parents want me to be in Slytherin," Sirius scowled.  
  
James made a face. "If I got put in Slytherin, I'd get right back on the train and ask to go home."  
  
Sirius laughed. "I wonder how they sort us?"  
  
James shrugged. "Some boy on the platform was saying something about fighting the giant squid."  
  
"All right!" Sirius said, his eyes lighting up. "Do you think they give us swords, or do we have to use just the wands?"  
  
James laughed.  
  
They were nearing the end of the train, and so far, they hadn't seen one empty car. Finally, Sirius spotted one with only one other person in it. He was a sandy-haired boy with a book perched on his lap.  
  
"How about this one? He looks okay," said Sirius, reaching for the door.  
  
But James caught his hand.  
  
"No," he said.  
  
Sirius froze. Something wasn't right here.  
  
"What?" he asked, confused. He had the feeling that something was going very, very wrong. It felt like he had just been dreaming, and James's word had jolted him awake. His head felt fuzzy, somehow.  
  
"Padfoot," James said, "we can't go where he's going."  
  
"What's going on?" Sirius asked, rubbing his head.  
  
"Think, Padfoot. Think hard. You'll remember."  
  
Sirius looked into the car. The sandy haired boy turned a page. "Remus," he whispered. "That's Remus. I can remember..."  
  
"That's right," James said, grinning.  
  
Sirius shook his head. Then he looked at the grinning eleven year old in front of him.  
  
"James?" he said. "Prongs? Is it really you?"  
  
James's smile widened. "Hello, old friend."  
  
"James!" Sirius exclaimed. He was shaking again. He could barely move.  
  
James laughed and caught Sirius in a tremendous hug. "It's good to see you again! I've missed you."  
  
"I missed you, Prongs," Sirius said hugging his friend tightly. He pulled away, standing back to look at his friend. "Prongs, forgive me. I never intended—I'm so sorry for what happened. It was all my fault—"  
  
"No," said James. "It wasn't your fault. And it couldn't have happened in any other way. I don't blame you, Padfoot. You've more than paid for any mistakes you've made. But for whatever their might be to forgive, Sirius, I forgive you."  
  
Sirius stood frozen for a moment. Then a smile split his face. "Prongs. You don't know how long I've waited to hear that."  
  
James laughed again, and stepped back. "You look pretty good for a dead guy," he said, a glint in his eye. "We better hurry—we don't want to miss our stop."  
  
"Our stop?" Sirius asked.  
  
"Of course," said Lily, appearing at Sirius's side. She looked eleven years old as well. "The train just takes us where we're going. It's not the final destination."  
  
"Where is he going?" Sirius asked, looking into the compartment. Now he could see that the sandy-haired boy was not a boy at all, but a man. A grown man, with a lot of sorrow in his eyes. He closed his book, and leaned his head against the wall.  
  
"Who knows?" James said, resting a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "But it's not his time yet. Eventually we'll see him again—but he still has a part to play."  
  
"We'd better get going," Lily said. "It's just this way." She led them down the hall. They left their trunks—they wouldn't need them anymore.  
  
Through the windows of the cars, Sirius could see a lot of familiar faces. They passed Dumbledore, riding along, looking gravely at a small silver instrument of some sort. The next cars were filled with people Sirius had known from the Order: Tonks, Shacklebolt, and Moody; Arthur and Molly Weasley; the twins, Bill, and Charlie.  
  
Sirius paused outside the next door. A fat little man with watery eyes was curled up on the floor of the car, his hands clutching his knees close. He stared, unblinking and unseeing, at the wall.  
  
"Peter," Sirius said. For the first time in a long time, he could say it without rancor. He could say Wormtail's name with pity, rather than hatred. "I wonder what will become of him?"  
  
"He made his own prison," Lily murmred, "and it's too late for him to escape it."  
  
"Even he still has a part to play," James agreed. "But leave him. Come see who's in the next car."  
  
Sirius followed James, who gestured proudly to the window. Inside were four people Sirius knew well. There was Ginny Weasley, laughing and talking to Hermione Granger, who sat beside Ron. The three of them looked happy. But sitting a little way away, slightly alone, sat Harry. He stared out the window, watching the scenery pass. Sirius reached up and touched the window.  
  
"He'll be okay, Padfoot," James said. "His journey isn't over yet, that's all."  
  
"He'll blame himself," Sirius said, "for what happened to me."  
  
"In time, he'll learn," Lily said.  
  
"My son is stronger than you think, Padfoot," Prongs said proudly.  
  
"I'm afraid we'll never see him again," Sirius murmured. "He's so much like you, James. You should see him play quidditch."  
  
"I never miss a match," James said. Sirius turned his head in surprise. "We can watch them whenever we want. We're still a part of them, Sirius. We'll see them again some day. Don't worry."  
  
Sirius nodded. He backed away from the window, and followed Lily again. James's smile was reassuring.  
  
They stumbled as the train halted.  
  
"This is us!" Lily cheered. Light flooded the hallway as a distant doorway opened.  
  
They approached it, and stopped, looking through. Lily took his left elbow; James took his right. "We'll go through together this time," James said. "On three. One, Two, Three."  
  
On the other side, they all looked just as they had at James and Lily's wedding.  
  
All the grief and pain of twelve years in Azkaban suddenly evaporated. All the sorrows of a life that had been one long struggle seemed to float away, like dust on the breeze. He felt newborn, and Sirius understood, really understood, for the first time.  
  
"Ah," he said, smiling at his best friend. "Now I see, Prongs. Now I see." 


End file.
